


Love The One You're With

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Fluff and Angst, Incest, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Albus both discover that just because you can’t be with the one you love, is no reason you can’t love the one you’re with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love The One You're With

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work  
> Warning:just your general slash smut  
> Word Count:4908  
> Author's Notes: Thanks to wwmrsweasleydo for being an awesome beta and putting up with my continual rqst for new beta help.

Love the One You’re With

“Who pissed in your coffee?” Uncle Ron, his voice rough from too much beer, said from behind him.

Startled, Albus twirled around. Tolerably tipsy, he more wobbled than twirled. “What?” 

“I said. ‘Who pissed in your coffee, or is it?” He lifted Albus’s drink from the table and drained its contents in one draught. “That should be who pissed in your ...?” he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth questioning the taste, “Ogden’s, if I’m not mistaken. Why so glum, Albus my lad?” 

Albus glared at his empty glass and indicated his desire for another to a passing waiter. This action made it impossible to ignore the happy couple laughing and dancing on the dance floor. His heart twisted inside him. 

Snarling, he snatched a half-empty glass from the other side of the table and downed it, oblivious as to its contents. His eyes burned with unshed emotion, hurt and anger warred within him. They looked so beautiful together: Tall, slender and blond with petite, curvy and ginger. Scorpius and Rose, the perfect couple, and the couple that had put an end to the decades-long Malfoy-Weasley feud. Everyone in the whole bloody world was thrilled with the engagement, and Albus’s heart was breaking - best mate to one and cousin to the other - he couldn’t not be here. 

“Oh. I see,” said his uncle. “You wish it was you, don’t you?" 

Albus turned around and stared, scared that perhaps he’d shown too much. He’d been so careful not to let his feelings show. No one, not even Rose - his best friend since childhood - knew how much he did wish it was him. 

“I know you’ve been in love with her since you were little. I’m sorry she never felt the same.” 

“Rose? No! I mean I like her, but not like that. She’s my cousin, more like my sister even. That’s just sick.” Albus drew back as he spoke, horrified at what his uncle had just suggested. 

“But, but… I saw how you were looking at them. Oh…” Uncle Ron stopped, a look of understanding washed over his face. “Albus, my dear boy, I’m sorry. It’s Scorpius, isn’t it? You’re in love with Scorpius.” 

Albus tried to deny it, but could not pretend any longer. He gave a short nod then dropped his forehead against the table. Not the wisest of moves as it started the room spinning like a gyroscope. He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his equilibrium. He barely noticed the warm hand patting him on his back. 

Stability achieved at last, or at least enough that the urge to sick-up was no longer prevalent, Albus raised his head and looked at his uncle. Dear sweet Uncle Ron, whom everyone teased about being emotionally challenged. Uncle Ron had always been extra nice to him especially helping him learn to deal with James, whom Albus both adored and wanted to hex, on a daily (sometimes twice daily) basis. Uncle Ron, more than anyone, understood what it was like to be a youngest brother. 

Uncle Ron flashed his patented grin and said, “I think you’ve suffered enough. Let’s get out of here.” 

Albus tottered to a standing position. He managed to stay erect, however. He snorted inside his head at the word erect. _Yeah, I’ve been erect pretty much the whole evening, just a different kind of erect._ He rolled his eyes at that, again not the best decision he’d made in his twenty years of life. The room resumed its crazy spinning. 

“Your choice,” his uncle was saying as they came out in to the warm spring night. “We can go to a Muggle pub and set about drinking each other under the table, get totally pissed, stagger home, puke, pass out, then wake up tomorrow with a raging headache. Or, we can be adults, and go have a couple of cups of coffee, sober up and go home.” 

Albus just looked at him and said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” 

“Right. The pub it is. I know the perfect one.” He pulled Albus into a side-along Apparition, landing in a part of London Albus was unfamiliar with. They turned the corner and entered “The Blackened Pig”. The proprietor asked Uncle Ron if he wanted the usual, indicating a long term acquaintance. He shook his head and lead Albus to a back table, near the dart board, before excusing himself and heading back to the bar to get their first round.

 

“I was hoping you’d pick this option,” Uncle Ron said as he placed two pints on the table. “Thought we’d try something new, it’s called Bateman’s Rosey Nosey.” He took a sip of the brew and wiped the foam from his upper lip. “What do you think?” 

Albus drank and nodded. “Not bad, mmmmh,” he took another drink this one longer than the first. “It’s good, thanks. Why were you hoping I’d choose this option?” 

A flicker, barely a shadow, passed over his favourite Uncle’s eyes. A shadow that told Albus: leave it be. He turned back towards Albus, his face warm and open once again and said, “Why? My only daughter is marrying a Malfoy. Draco Malfoy and I are going to be related by marriage, and you dare to ask me why I feel the need to get pissed. Can you imagine the holiday celebrations? “I have to share my holidays with, with,” he shuddered with exaggeration, “Weasleys. All that ginger and those freckles, my eyes may be damaged for life”, in perfect imitation of Mr. Malfoy. 

Albus laughed, Scorpius’s dad could be a bit of a drama king. “You have a point.” 

They each had a couple of pints, talking the usual pub talk, sports-Quidditch, careers-Albus’s. Pressure against his bladder told Albus he needed to excuse himself. He staggered to the loo. On the way he noticed the pub seemed to have less than the usual amount of females. As a matter of fact, he didn’t see any. 

As he was in the loo, he ruminated on this lack of females, along with his own crushing disappointment and heartbreak over the upcoming nuptials. He had no idea how he was going to be able to spend Christmas and summer Hols watching Scorpius and Rose, knowing that at the end of the day, they would be together and he would be – well, alone. 

When another patron, who had come in after him, finished their business and departed Albus realized he’d been gone an unsociable amount of time. Afraid Uncle Ron would come looking for him; he washed his hands, took a cursory glance at himself in the mirror, decided there was nothing else he could do, and left the gents. 

He arrived back at the table, but it was empty. Albus had just left the gents, so he knew Uncle Ron wasn’t in there. He looked around and spotted him in the corner, leaning in close to another bloke. The other bloke looked up and pressed his lips against Uncle Ron’s. 

Albus felt an overwhelming urge to slap his hand against his forehead. No wonder there were no women here. This was a gay bar, or pub actually. Uncle Ron was a _shirt lifter, a poof, a homo-sex-u-al,_ just like Albus. He’d lifted at least one shirt in his days, if that kiss was any indication. But wait, Uncle Ron had been married to Aunt Hermione for a hundred years, or longer. Albus was too pissed to make sense of it now. 

Settled against the back of the booth, Albus studied the two of them, surprised to see the strange man had black hair, thick and unruly. The kiss deepened and the stranger’s hand closed over Uncle Ron’s crotch familiarly. Uncle Ron reached down and removed the hand, raising it to his lips. Kissing the back of it, he shook his head and said something; moving his head in the table’s direction. Seeing Albus’s eyes on them, he started. Positive that Uncle Ron was now a brilliant shade of red, clashing with his ginger-and-starting-to-gray hair, Albus saluted him with his pint glass. 

Uncle Ron hurried back to the table as scarlet as Albus had thought he’d be. Albus just smiled at him. “So, you’re one of us.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Uncle Ron took a long drink of his pint, emptying it. He said nothing; what would be the point? Albus had seen it for himself. 

“What about Aunt Hermione? Does she know?” 

His uncle nodded; then excused himself to go and get another round. He set the glasses on the table and sat back down. 

Albus waited for the rest of the story. His patience was legendary. It was what made him such an effective interrogator for the Auror Department. Albus could outwait anyone. He could almost see the words chosen and then discarded as his uncle tried to find those that would explain. At last he began to speak. 

“Yes, Hermione knows. She knows I love her more than I’ll ever love another, except for one.” This last bit was said so low Albus almost didn’t catch it. Uncle Ron continued. “She’s my rock, and my best friend. She completes me. All that I am not - she is - and vice versa. She also accepts that I sometimes need the lean hard body of another male pressed against me.” Uncle Ron picked at some imaginary lint on his trousers. “I’ve never been with another wizard since we married, only Muggles. I’d never embarrass her that way. They’re usually one offs, blokes I’ll never see again.” He shrugged. 

“You weren’t kissing him like he was a stranger.” Albus nodded in the direction of the other man. 

“Well, no, he’s the exception. We’ve been together a few times. Perhaps you noticed he has more than a passing resemblance to someone.” 

“He looks a lot like my dad. And me!” Albus exclaimed as if he’d only just made the connection. 

Uncle Ron rolled his eyes. Albus wondered why. No wonder his mum and dad grew so irritated when Albus did that. It wasn’t very nice. 

“Yes he does, doesn’t he?” Uncle Ron stared into Albus’s eyes. The intense blue of his eyes caught Albus’s and held them. Albus found himself struggling to breathe, and strangely aroused. 

“What’s his name?” He managed to croak out. 

“I call him Harry.” Uncle Ron’s voice was low. 

Albus coughed then laughed. “Well that’s convenient; it’s the same name as my dad’s; should be easy to remember.” 

“You really are pissed, aren’t you?” his uncle responded with an incredulous look. “I never said that was his name. I said, ‘I call him Harry.’ I’ve no idea what his name really is.” 

The half empty glass Albus had lifted to his lips halted mere inches from its target. Albus looked at his Uncle, who nodded. Albus lowered his glass back to the table. 

“I’ve been in love with your father for thirty years, perhaps longer. I was too young to realize it the first few years. It was only during the Tri-Wizard tournament that I understood how I felt about him. When I was his chosen one during the second task, I hoped he might feel the same.” 

“Well, did he? Does he?” Albus asked, unsure how he felt about his dad being unfaithful to his mum, with his favourite uncle. 

Uncle Ron snorted, “Do you think I’d be hanging out in Muggle gay pubs chatting up Harry Potter clones, if he did? No, your father did not return the affection. He had his own fantasies. They did not include me.” 

“His own fantasies… Does he still… I mean has he ever….” Albus’s voice trailed off, he couldn’t ask. 

“Has he ever been unfaithful to your mum? I don’t think so. If he has he’s not mentioned it to me. Your dad loves your mum in his own way; he doesn’t want to hurt her. He gave his heart to another a long time ago, and it wasn’t returned. But he would never willingly hurt someone he cares for, if he couldn’t have his first choice.” 

Silence reigned between them. A group of loud and boisterous men about Albus’s age entered the pub. Dance music blared from the speakers, and they streamed on to the dance floor. The bass thrumming in the background, Albus wondered how Uncle Ron had stood the past 25 plus years, loving his father, and knowing Harry did not return that love. His uncle doubtless did understand what Albus was feeling tonight. He started to ask Uncle Ron about it, when his uncle’s hand stretched across the table and rested on the back of Albus’s. 

“You look so much like him at that age. You’ve no idea how incredible he was. So hot and sexy, and intense, he’d scorch you with that intensity. He was so strong, not physically, but magically and emotionally. It was impossible to be around him and not be affected. And courageous, Harry was afraid of nothing, or if he was, he never let it show. He still doesn’t. Whatever life places in front of him, he confronts head on, never backing down,” Uncle Ron lowered his voice and Albus had to strain to hear what followed. 

“Except for one thing,” Uncle Ron’s gaze never left Albus. Albus found his hand had been turned over and Uncle Ron was now stroking the inside of the palm. He lifted Albus’s hand and kissed that same section of palm. The action sent Albus’s blood straight to his cock. 

Albus whimpered; then swallowed hard managing to gasp out, “What was the one thing he was unable to confront?” 

“You’re not the first Potter to have fallen for a blond pure-blooded git.” At Albus’s shocked face Uncle Ron came around to sit next to Albus. “Draco turned him down; he was quite decent about it. Thanked your dad for the compliment, but as poncey as Draco Malfoy looks, it seems he plays on the straight and narrow. Very straight and very narrow.” His fingers caressed Albus’s late evening stubble. 

Albus leaned in to the touch. 

“This is some kind of fucked-up mess, isn’t it? I’ve been in love with your father for most of my life. He’s been in love with Draco Malfoy almost as long. And now you’re in love with his son.” Uncle Ron was silent for so long, Albus was surprised when he continued. “I know you’re wondering how you’ll get through the next fifty years, seeing him with Rose. But you will. I did and you will as well.” 

Albus nodded, not sure he believed him. 

“Let’s dance,” Uncle Ron said, out of the blue. 

“Dance? Are you crazy?” Albus snorted. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. What’s the matter, afraid you can’t keep up?” Uncle Ron teased as he stood and bowed in Albus’s direction, holding out his hand for Albus to take. 

“Oh don’t you worry old man I can keep up, but can you?” Albus allowed Uncle Ron to lead him on to the dance floor. 

It was crowded, the management had sectioned off a small area about fifteen feet square for those patrons who wanted to let loose. Uncle Ron took Albus in his arms. The music was steady and smooth, right for a slow dance. “Who are you calling an old man? I bet I can dance circles around you.” 

“I’m sure you can if we’re talking the “the geriatric groove”, but just wait until the music changes.” Albus teased back. 

Pulled into a close embrace and the words, “I’m not so sure I want the music to change, for reasons that have nothing to do with my dancing ability. I like having you in my arms,” whispered against his ear, flared his arousal. 

Albus was spared having to respond as the music changed to a fast, up tempo, throbbing dance beat. A popular choice, if based on the shouts, claps and frantic dancing of the crowd around him. The tables emptied as others surged onto the floor. Fingers snapped, hands clapped, arms raised, hips swayed and pelvises ground into whatever they could find. 

_Fuck, he’d not been kidding_ , Albus thought as he watched his 45 year old uncle dance with the best of them. Ron’s head was thrown back, his ginger hair swinging freely, his blue eyes flashing with excitement and joy; Albus had never seen his Uncle look so free and happy. _He looks at home here, like he belongs._ Albus thought. _He’s also beautiful._

Others in the crowd seemed to think so as well, as more than one of them danced their way into Uncle Ron’s direction. Uncle Ron was smooth and cool, smiling and nodding, dancing a few seconds with them only to turn away and head back towards Albus. 

Ron, (somehow in the last few minutes, he had gone from Uncle Ron to just Ron) wrapped his arms around Albus’s waist, rotating his pelvis, his desire and arousal hard and clear against Albus’s arse. Albus answered by pressing against that hardness. 

He closed his eyes surrendering to the sensations surrounding him. Sharp teeth nibbled at his ear lobe, large and steady hands smoothed over his chest and abdomen reaching low, but never quite touching. Those same hands glided over his sides and hips. Albus moaned and lifted his own arms, up and behind him, wrapping them around the neck of the taller man. He turned his head and Ron’s warm, full and soft but dominant lips captured his. There was nothing tender or tentative about this kiss. It was hard and demanding. Albus would be Ron’s tonight. Albus’s answering kiss was yes! 

The song ended and another one began immediately. They both knew this dance was over. Albus noticed a few men with desire-filled eyes as they wound their way back to the table. Several of them nodded and smiled at him, a few even went so far as to palm their own erections. They knew. Albus’s cock throbbed in anticipation. 

Grabbing their jackets as they passed the table, Ron pulled him outside, giving Albus no time to agree or disagree. Not that there was any chance on this green earth of Albus disagreeing. 

Once outside he slammed Ron up against the wall, his tongue plunging in to Ron’s mouth as his hand thrust down Ron’s trousers. Ron’s breath caught as he arched up in to Albus’s hand. 

“Fucking hell,” Ron said as he jerked forward. He grabbed Albus’s shoulder and reversed their positions. “I want to fuck you.” His mouth, wet and hard, once again claimed Albus’s. 

“Who’s stopping you?” Albus panted back. 

“But first, I want to taste you.” He dropped to his knees and grimaced when his knees meet gravel and broken glass. “Ow fuck, ouch.” The two of them cast simultaneous spells: garbage removal (Ron’s) and pain removal (Albus’s). They stopped and smiled at each other. The heated intensity of the moment was gone. “I want you, Albus Severus. If you want this to stop, just say the word.” 

Albus moaned, he wrapped his hands in Ron’s hair. “Just blow me, old man,” he teased as he thrust his groin forward. 

“The cheek of some youngsters these days,” Ron laughed and took zip in hand. 

Soft breath against his cock, Albus closed his eyes, anticipating the warm mouth that was sure to follow. When nothing else happened he opened one eye and squinted down at Ron. 

Ron was staring at his cock, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“What?” Albus asked. 

“Nothing. Just reminiscing,” he said as he lowered his mouth. 

That made no sense, but as Ron’s tongue wrapped around his cock, Albus stopped thinking. Gods this was wonderful, just the right amount of sucking and licking. His pleasure surged up from deep inside him. He grabbed a handful of hair and holding firm Albus pistoned his hips as he fucked Ron’s mouth. Ron moaned as he did and pressed Albus closer indicating he wanted more. 

Albus felt himself come apart as his orgasm ripped through him. Ron swallowed around him taking in every drop. A soft tongue licked at Albus’s softening erection. Albus collapsed on the pavement pulling Ron down with him and kissed him, tasting himself on Ron’s tongue. 

“I still want to fuck you,” Ron whispered when the kiss ended. 

Nodding, he stood and turned towards the wall ready to be taken here and now. 

A small bubble of laughter erupted from behind him. “Not here. I know a place, or rather I have a place. It’s a small bed-sit, paid for by my earnings from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes." 

Albus glanced at him questioning. 

“No, Hermione does not know about this, no one in the family does. You’ll be the first. Is there anyone that might worry if you don’t come home tonight?” 

Albus snorted, “James? No, I doubt he’ll even notice I’m gone. He’s probably got something planned with Colleen, anyway. I’m ready,” he said as he finished buttoning his trousers. 

“Colleen Creevey? Isn’t she a bit young for James? 

Albus turned and gaped at him. “Hello kettle, have you met pot?” 

Ron blushed and groaned, “Okay. Okay. Come on ‘Little Bus’” calling him the pet name he’d called him since Albus was a kid. “Let’s go.” 

Once the nausea had subsided from the apparition, Albus opened his eyes. It was just as he would have imagined it to be, large and comfortable. A king size bed set in the middle of a one wall dominated the space. A book, lying opened and face down on a large overstuffed chair in the corner, caught his attention. 

“Aunt Hermione would have a fit if she saw that book open like that,” Albus said as he finished his sweep of the room. 

“Yes, well ‘Aunt’ Hermione isn’t here now, is she? But you are,” Ron said as he turned Albus around to face him. His lips pressed against Albus’s, gently at first, as if testing to see if Albus was still wanting. 

He was. He parted his lips and Ron’s tongue slipped in. Deep and powerful was the kiss, slow and intense as well. The sizzle of sexual need flamed deep inside him. Not just physical, but an emotional connection as well. He’d had his share of sexual experiences, but this was different. Albus trusted this man; knew he’d never hurt him. This feeling of trust was a powerful aphrodisiac. Albus intensified the kiss. 

“Ron please, I thought you were going to fuck me?” he whined, his voice petulant he knew.

 

Ron groaned and maneouvered the two of them towards the bed unbuttoning Albus’s shirt as he did. His fingers too large for the small buttons, the process took a while. Albus quivered with lust at the size of the fingers, imagining them lubed and in him, stretching him opening him up for something even larger and better. He fell unto the bed and pulled Ron down with him. The shirt finally off, Ron made short work of the trousers and pants as well, with some help from Albus. 

On his knees in front of the bed, Ron looked at him with an emotion Albus was unfamiliar with. He wasn’t sure what it was. Desire yes, there was no doubt Ron wanted him, but something else as well. Affection -that was it- Ron clearly liked him. Didn’t just want to fuck him, but would enjoy being with him even after the fucking was over. 

The emotion that this feeling invoked in Albus was stronger than anything he’d felt in a long time. Even his love for Scorpius was overshadowed by it. Albus pulled Ron into a kiss more personal and emotional than any they had shared that evening. The desperate sweep of his tongue as it explored the nooks and crannies of Ron’s mouth proof of the depth of his desire. 

Soon Ron’s clothing was also hastily discarded and tossed to the side. Albus leaned back on his elbows and took in the physique of the man in front of him. Broad shoulders indicated regular workouts and long muscular legs the result of daily runs. But what Albus lusted for the most, was the soft swell of stomach Ron’s prick rested against. The slight rounding that spoke of Ron’s love of good food and beer. It made him imperfect and human. Albus loved him for it. 

Albus reversed their positions pushing Ron down on the bed, and dropped to his knees raining kisses on that rounded swell, and if he occasionally pressed kisses on Ron’s erection, who could blame him? 

Albus leaned back on his haunches, staring up at Ron’s flushed face. “You’re bloody perfect.” 

Something surged in Ron’s eyes and he grabbed Albus, his hands roaming over Albus’ body. Albus threw his head back and allowed the feel of Ron’s hands and mouth to wash over him. The graze of Ron’s teeth as they nibbled on his ear lobe, the gentle press then hard pinch of Ron’s fingers on his nipples bringing them too a point. The soft touch of Ron’s fingers as they cupped then stroked his erection, and the insistent flick of his tongue against Albus’s peaked nipples. 

After the hesitant then persistent exploration of Ron’s fingers of the area behind his sac,

Ron’s slicked finger breached him and Albus arched up off the bed. His muscles around his hole tightened at first. He relaxed into the feeling, and he welcomed the intrusion, but it wasn’t enough. He keened begging for more, more stretch, more burn, more feeling of fullness. 

“For Merlin’s sake. Ron, please!” He pleaded, not ashamed to beg. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make sure you’re ready” Ron gasped as he continued the stretch. 

“Fuck, Ron, I’m ready.” With those words, Albus took control. Ron fell to the side when Albus roared back and pushed him off him. Seconds later Ron was on his back and Albus straddled over him. 

Ron’s breath was harsh, his eyes wide in surprise and pleasure. “I like a bloke who knows when to take control,” he teased as Albus looked frantically around for the lube. 

“Where is it?” he finally asked. 

“Where’s what?” Ron asked; the bloody picture of bloody innocence. 

“The lube, you…” he snapped, but didn’t finish the sentence for two reasons. The first, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to call Ron at that moment. He was being so bloody annoying, but he looked so fucking hot lying there. Covered in glorious freckles, Albus wanted to taste each and every one - but not now. The hair on his chest a warm auburn colour, darker and richer than the ginger on his head, while that around his cock was an even deeper burnished copper, both sprinkled with grey. 

But more importantly, Albus shut up as the lube magically appeared in Ron’s hand. 

He handed it to Albus, “I believe you wanted this.” 

Albus took a generous dollop. The scent of pine and leather invaded his senses. He smoothed it liberally over Ron’s very erect prick. His lower lip caught in his teeth, Ron’s mouth looked so inviting; Albus leaned down to kiss him one more time, raising himself up as he did. His tongue teased across the bottom lip before it sought that warm cavity, as he lowered himself on to Ron. 

“Oh, sweet fucking Merlin,” they said at the same time. 

There was laughter and Albus rose and then lowered again and again, each time lowering himself even more, fucking himself with Ron’s cock. It felt so perfect. That was it; there were no other words he could think of that could describe this feeling in his arse. It was just so fucking perfect. 

His climax imminent, Albus reached for his cock. Ron slapped his hand away, “At least let me do something,” he growled. “I’d like to think my participation was somewhat needed.” His hand, rough and calloused, stroked Albus hard and harsh, just like Albus liked. 

“Oh, gods, close-so close, oh fuck, fuck, fucking hell, Albus fuck” Ron stammered more than properly spoke the words. In a language Albus understood better than the Queen’s English. “I’m so close.” Ron’s eyes squinched closed and his teeth clenched and the eruption of hot come flooded Albus’s arse. 

Ron's strokes grew more erratic during his climax, his rhythm having disappeared. The fact that he’d brought Ron to that moment of incapacity touched something in Albus and he too was coming. His come spurted out of him; Ron sat up and tried to catch some with his mouth. He failed miserably, but he got points for trying. 

Looking down into Ron’s eyes which held such warmth and tenderness and compassion in them, Albus felt pure joy. He threw his head back, and let loose, his laughter long and carefree. 

Surprise on Ron’s face morphed into laughter and he joined in. 

Albus collapsed and Ron pulled him in holding him close. 

Albus knew he wasn’t over Scorpius yet, his love was still too fresh. Ron was not over Harry, his love for Albus’s father too long a part of his life. You didn’t forget your first love that easily. As substitutes went, however; this was a little bit of alright. Albus intended to take advantage of this substitute when chance allowed. From the way Ron was holding him, he was confident he felt the same.

End


End file.
